


Finding Betty

by notanotherotherone



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Actor!Jughead, Angst, Archie's a singer, Betty isn't a natural blonde, Dark Betty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jughead's an actor, Oblivious Betty, Popstar!Archie, Skip Beat AU, Slow Burn, So slow you guys will want to kill me, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-06 00:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanotherotherone/pseuds/notanotherotherone
Summary: Betty Cooper's life has, for as long as she's known it, revolved around the one and only Archie Andrews. Every atom of her being was dedicated to him, every decision she made, every path she chose. But that was okay since she loved him... Right?





	1. Once Upon a Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> The plot is from Skip Beat! My absolute favourite manga and I'll be taking some liberties with Betty's appearance (if you've read Skip Beat! you'll know what I mean, otherwise you'll understand soon enough). She's originally a brunette but her blonde hair will be coming soon! 
> 
> Anyways, this is at it's heart a story of Betty finding herself so whilst she may make you cringe initially, please don't hate what I did to her! Betty's my absolute favourite character in the show and her development has been my favourite thing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Inside each and everyone of us, in the smallest crevices of our hearts, God has created a box. Hidden within the crimson chambers, secured by scores of locks, the only one capable of opening the box is the human themselves. We enter this world with the sealed box stored deep within us and thus what it encloses remains hidden inside..._  
  
"So that's a Big Whopper, no tomatoes, extra cheese slice and Mozzarella sticks?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"What drink would you like with that?"   
  
"Coke, please."   
  
"Sure! No problem!"   
  
Betty smiled widely at the customer in front of her. It made her day when someone was polite and a simple 'please' or 'thank you' never failed to impress her, especially after a busy day.  
  
"Betty! I am so so sorry I'm late," Jemma sidled up next to her by the till, fixing her apron in place. "You can leave now, I'll take over from here."   
  
Betty had already finished ringing up the previous customer's order so she nodded and thanked Jemma before she headed over to the changing room. She checked her watch and a sense of dread immediately rushed through her.  
  
5:10  
  
She was going to be late.  
  
By the time she reached the dressing room, her apron was off and her shirt already unbuttoned. Waving to her two coworkers who'd also just finished their shifts, she made her way to her locker and continued the expeditious outfit change.  
  
"Who?" The two girls were involved in a light hearted exchange that Betty really didn't have the time to - "Archie? Archie Andrews?"   
  
Well, maybe she had a couple of minutes. She quickly pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her ears free to listen to the conversation behind her.  
  
'You mean the singer who's albums have been selling pretty well recently?" The girl continued to her friend who was nodding her head vigorously." But weren't you all about Jughead?"  
  
The friend lifted a hand dramatically over her head, "I've converted to Archie!"  
  
Betty fist pumped with a silent yet enthusiastic 'yes'  
  
"He's way better looking and he's a far better singer," exclaimed Archie Andrew's newest fan.  
  
Both girls were completely oblivious to the proud look of approval Betty could barely contain.  
  
"How can you say that? We've never even heard Jughead sing before," Her friend shot back.  
  
"He's just an actor with a pretty face. It's so obvious he's a bad singer." Realising her friend was nowhere near accepting her justifications she waved her hand. "Either way, I'm completely and utterly devoted to Archie now and I can prove it to you with... THIS"   
  
A moment of rustling paper and a disbelieving gasp later, Betty whipped her head round to see not one but TWO life size posters of the boy she loves held in the smug girl's hands.  
  
His signature red hair was captured perfectly on the poster, along with his heart-stopping smoulder and Betty couldn't be more jealous.  
  
Unaware of the green fumes of envy she had just invoked, the girl squealed, "I bought two first editions of his second album and got two life-sized photos of Archie Andrews!!!"  
  
On this note, she kissed the cheek of the poster in her right hand.  
  
"Why did you buy two?"   
  
"I'm gonna preserve one in it's current condition and I'm going to use the other."   
  
Dumbfounded, her friend shot her an I-can't-believe-you're-being-serious look  
  
"No way..."   
  
The girls' heads turned in the direction of the soft voice that interrupted their conversation.  
  
"I bought two CDs as well but," Betty was shaking and visibly upset. "But they never gave me anything!"   
  
Unsure of what to say, her coworkers continued to stare awkwardly at the slumped over figure of Betty Cooper, curled up in a ball, wondering why she had been so unfairly treated.  
  
"Why? How could they be so heartless?" She asked no one in particular. "I waited outside the store all night before it was released and was actually the first one to buy it!"   
  
"Couldn't she have just downloaded it online?" whispered one of the girls to the other.  
  
The proud owner of the posters nodded at her friend then cautiously moved to reassure what she recognised as a fellow fangirl.  
  
"You know you can buy these things without having to wait all night," she began.  
  
Betty looked up at the girl still holding the posters and a glazed look encompassed her eyes as she absorbed the images that lay before her.  
  
"Archie's poster! I want one!!" Betty cried out.  
  
"No!" The girl shouted, holding her posters closer, "They're mine!"   
  
Betty sank lower into herself than before, the feeling of defeat deflating her by the second.  
  
This time the other non-poster wielding girl knelt beside Betty and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.  
  
"When you bought the CDs, did you get a receipt?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," Betty exhaled, as she continued down her spiral towards despair.  
  
"Well, you could show the receipt to the store you bought your CDs from and they might give you the posters. At the very least you should get one."   
  
A giant ray of hope beamed through the hole she had isolated herself in, shining a sliver of light into the emptiness.  
  
"They probably won't have any left though," The girls started up their own conversation again.  
  
"Yeah," Her friend laughed. "And I highly doubt someone as sweet and polite as Betty would start a fight with -"   
  
A metal clang resounded the dressing room followed by a blur of pink and white attached to a bobbing brown ponytail. She was gone before either one of them could blink.  
  
"Wow"  
  
"I thought Betty was a lot calmer than that."   
  
"Yeah.... And I absolutely didn't pin her down as an obsessive fangirl." 

****

Determined. Serious. Driven.

Nobody would deny sensible Betty Cooper upheld these qualities to the highest degree and give 110% to anything she set her mind to. Although, the citizens of LA busy in their outdoor activities that Thursday evening would argue this was hardly an appealing combination of traits.

_Must have Archie’s poster. Archie’s poster. Archie’s poster._

Betty’s brain was a shrine to the pop idol known as Archie Andrews. She knew every lyric to every song he played and collected every piece of merchandise she knew existed so she would be damned if she didn’t have at least one of these limited edition posters. Interweaving through cars and people, no regard for the strands of hair escaping her neatly tied ponytail becoming glued to her cheeks by a fury of sweat trickling down her face, she pedaled faster and faster in pursuit of her single-minded fantasy.

Slamming her foot down in front of the shop’s counter, Betty Cooper, bike and all, stood before a bewildered staff member as she tried to regain a normal breathing pattern.

"I…" her words came out fractured through heavy breaths as onlookers watched the spectacle unfold. "… I… didn’t get… Archie Andrew’s… poster." 

Overhearing the ruckus, the manager emerged from the aisles, momentarily joining the customers in their frozen stupor as he took in the wild girl before clearing his throat.

'I didn’t inform the clerk until later on in the day about the first edition bonus," he explained examining Betty’s receipt, pitying her when he saw the time stamp.

Relieved at the presence of her superior, the staff member nodded along as she regained her composure.

"Erm…" she walked to retrieve something from the room behind her. "We don’t have anymore posters except the shop’s own," she explained regretfully, unrolling the poster in her hand. "Will this do?"

****

Gorgeous red hair fell messily atop his head, deep soul-stopping brown eyes gazed directly at her, and his lips were curled into their signature smoulder. Betty caressed the 2-dimensional face of her idol with a smile so endearing, it brightened her crazed appearance instantly.

"Thank goodness," she giggled to herself. "The staff in the shop were so understanding." 

Relieved, she didn’t have to go toe-to-toe for it, she rolled up the poster and held it triumphantly in the air signaling her latest achievement.

"Now I can go to work without having to wor-" she stopped herself once she caught sight of her watch face glaring at her on her exposed wrist. "Crap! Quarter to 6!! I’m so done for!!!" 

****

"We love the fact that you’re always so punctual, but it’s a 40 minute distance. You didn’t have to make it in 15 minutes!" Pops’ wife shook her head at the exhausted girl, dissipating by her feet. "Just how much did you force yourself?" 

Completely spent of energy, she was unable to form the words to answer the old woman who was lifting Betty’s head towards the glass of water she held for her to drink. As soon as she opened her mouth though, she was hit with a nauseating feeling and rushed to the toilet that was (thankfully) nearby.

"You’re in no condition to work today," Pops’ wife told her once she cleaned herself up.

"I have to work," Betty explained. "If I take even one day off, I won’t be able to pay the rent." 

"Your apartment’s that expensive?" she asked. She knew Betty had two part time jobs and that her income from this one alone was enough to pay rent for a decent apartment. "Do you live alone?" 

Not receiving an answer, the woman looked up from where she was mopping the floor. Clutching her collar tightly in her tiny hands, Betty’s face was crumpled up and she looked even smaller than she normally did.

"Well whatever the case," she dismissed the question sensing Betty’s reluctance to answer and not wanting to be nosy. "Coming to LA after dropping out of high school, working all day without any kind of social life, there’s obviously something wrong with that! Excluding today, you wear the same tight ponytail, with the same plain pink and blue outfits better suited to a woman my age." Despite her words, she had a motherly way about her and she smiled at Betty gently, "Don’t you want to dress up a little more from time to time like other girls?" 

****

Ever since she was a little girl, Betty had adored reading fairytales. Her favourite ones involved a down on her luck girl, going from rags to riches, becoming the most beautiful, most loved person in the kingdom and living happily ever after with her prince. It was her childhood dream to be like the princesses in those stories but growing up she discovered the harsh reality: Beauty doesn’t come cheap.

_Don’t you want to dress up a little more from time to time like other girls?_

Betty hungrily eyed the stunning gowns hanging in the shop windows as she made her way to her apartment. Passing the salon around the corner, she longed to go inside, and get her own princess-worthy makeover. Smiling sadly to herself, she thought about how she used to think she would look pretty great as a blo-

Stopping herself short, she caught herself and shook her head. She gripped the handlebars of her bike tightly and reminded herself that what she wanted came second. After all, she thought to herself as she locked her bike to the railing, a wide smile illuminating her face as she glanced up to her apartment window and saw the light on.

 _After all_ , she sprinted up the stairs, _even if she couldn’t be the princess_ , she was too impatient to wait for the elevator to arrive, _she still_ , flinging her door open,

"Archie!" 

 _She still had the prince_.


	2. Unlocking Pandora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos guys! I may have rushed this chapter in my hurry to shut the Archie infatuation down ASAP so sorry for any mistakes!

"Don’t yell so loud!" Archie glared at the overly excited girl in the doorway, "People will find out I’m here."

Betty was absolutely delighted. She pursed her lips and mouthed an apology and then, quietly, closed the door behind her. Hardly able to hold her excitement in, she clasped her hands together and grinned at him.

She and Archie had been childhood friends since forever. They grew up playing hide and seek, tag, and sometimes Archie even let them play house together. Due to her family situation, she stayed over with the Andrews quite often so Betty was sure she knew him better than anyone. That was exactly why she was walking towards her kitchen at this very moment.

"Archie, have you had dinner?"

"Well, duh," he said. "It’s past 11, why wouldn’t I have had dinner yet?"

"Right," Betty giggled nervously, looking away. She actually hadn’t eaten yet.

"Whatever, you wanna explain why there’s no beer in the fridge?"

"I don’t like beer," Archie shot her a confused look and Betty started playing with her fingers as she looked down. "Anyway, I didn’t know you’d be home tonight. Lately, your phone’s been going to voicemail so I can’t-"

"You’re saying this is my fault?" A shiver ran down Betty’s spine as she felt his eyes bore through her. "I’m busy too, you know? I can’t waste my time ringing you about every little thing."

"Right," she murmured. "Of course."

For some reason, Archie was always in a bad mood when he came home. When they first moved in together, he would wait up regardless of what time she got home so they could eat together. She would cook for him as soon as she was back from Pops, and then he’d go to bed, fed and satisfied.

It was probably the fame weighing him down, Betty thought to herself. She knew he hated being controlled and it was probably very frustrating having to be told how to dress and what he could or couldn’t do. The whole reason he came to LA was because he hated having his life controlled.

Archie’s parents owned a renowned hotel in Riverdale and he was their only child. He carried the burden of his parents’ wishes for him to one day inherit the hotel and run it with whatever simple, homely girl he’d end up married to. ‘A fate worse than death’ he used to call it. What made it worse was they never took his music seriously; believing it to be a phase that went from being ‘cute’ to a ‘waste of time’ when he didn’t grow out of it.

The final straw came when he and Betty were in their second year of high school. Archie was making a name for himself as an aspiring musician and news of a scout attending the upcoming talent show was spreading like wildfire through the hallways of Riverdale High. Whenever he wasn’t helping out at the hotel, or had a free period, he practiced like his life depended it – because it did.

A week before the event, Archie’s parents discovered they’d be understaffed on the evening of the show. The hotel provided jobs for many people in Riverdale, including a few who actually wanted to watch their children perform. Despite days of protests, shedding his pride to bargain and beg, he and Betty were enlisted to work whilst the talent show continued without him.

That night, Archie snuck into Betty’s room as he had done so many times before, looked her earnestly in the eyes and gently asked, "Betty, will you run away with me?"

Her. He picked her.

Swarms of girls were in love with him, but he had chosen her. She didn’t even have to think twice.

And now, here he was, with her, in their apartment, in dire need of cheering up and she knew exactly what he needed. Betty smiled as her hand hovered over the tin in front of her.

"Archie," she chirped. "I have a surprise for you!"

She made her way out of the kitchen but instantly froze when she saw him bent down by the door, tying his shoelaces together.

"H-Hey," she started. Not again. She took a deep breath, "Are you leaving again?"

"I just dropped by to pick up a change of clothes," he answered, inching closer to the door.

"What?" Betty was utterly dismayed. It had been so long since she’d last seen Archie.

He raised his eyebrows at her, gesturing at her to continue as her hands began to tremble.

The movement reminded her of what she was holding, smiling brightly as she looked  
from her fingers back to his face, "I made you your favourite chocolate fudge brownies!"

****

Sounds from the TV blared in the background whilst Betty watched Archie practically inhale the brownies she had prepared. She interpolated between cookies and brownies bi-weekly in case he dropped by (but usually the neighbours benefited quite happily from the leftovers).

"My manager never lets me eat anything like this you know," Archie explained between mouthfuls, a smile finally on his face. "It doesn’t go with my image and I’m way too famous now…"

He carried on eating and talking, Betty hooked on his every word, pleased she could have this effect on him and incredibly proud of how he was moving up in the music industry, finally making a name for himself just like he’d always dreamed.

"That reminds me," she suddenly said. "A girl from work said she switched from liking Jughead Jones to you!"

"Really?!" He almost jumped out of his seat. "Well obviously she would. That guy has nothing on me. The day when I nab his throne from him is getting closer by the minute. Just you wait-"

"… Jughead Jones!!!!"

Betty and Archie turned their heads towards the loud applause coming from the television.

"The Most Sexiest Guy as voted by our viewers, please give another round of applause for the unbeatable Jughead Jones!!!"

Screams blasted through the television and Betty pounced on the remote to lower the volume.

"Wow, Jughead, you’re certainly very popular aren’t you?" The presenter shouted above the excited fans.

Betty worryingly glanced at Archie. Gone was the happiness and laughter. His eyes now glowering, affixed on his self-proclaimed rival.

"Half of those people are probably paid to be there," she tried to console him.

"You’re actually a lot taller in real life! How tall are you exactly?"

Betty briefly wondered if the presenter was purposely attacking Archie’s insecurities. "That stupid hat he wears probably adds a couple of inches," she shrugged off.

Jughead would only take off his hat when he was in character. Had he been just another celebrity, the oddity of it would have been ridiculed a long time ago. However, Jughead had taken the acting world by storm with not only his alarmingly attractive features, but the skill and depth he brought to every role he played. The grey crown beanie became more of an emblem than a quirk; at one point it trended heavily in the fashion world and it wasn’t at all strange to see it worn by fans when one of his movies were released.

Today, he had paired it up with a black shirt with matching black pants, both undoubtedly designer. His long legs hooked over each other as he leaned back into the purple armchair on stage. One hand rested against his jaw, whilst the other lay strewn across the side of the chair. He chuckled at something, then flashed his teeth to the audience in a wide grin that sent them all squealing excitedly. Betty felt a shiver run down her spine when she saw it but was soon distracted by the clatter and rustle that came from behind her to pay any heed to it.

"Wait, don’t go," she pleaded her best friend.

Archie brushed past her but stopped when he caught sight of his own name on the screen.

"We conducted a survey with today’s audience on which male star they would love to date and here are the results!"

Betty cursed the woman on-screen blissfully dooming her long-awaited reunion. She nervously watched his shoulders rise and fists clench as he took in the results on screen:

  
1\. Jughead Jones  
2\. Reggie Mantle  
3\. Chuck Clayton  
4\. D. J. Doiley  
5\. Moose Mason  
6\. Jason Blossom  
7\. Archie Andrews  
8\. ……  
9\. ……  
10\. ……

Without saying a word, he picked up his bag and retreated to the door.

"Look," Betty implored. "You’re only 18. You’re a little young for women that age. When you’re 20 like Jughead, you’ll also-"

"What are you trying to say, Betty?" He directed his rage at her, "Are you trying to say I can’t compete with him as I am now?"

"No! Of course not!"

A loud bang signaled that her cries fell on deaf ears and she leaned her forehead against the door in defeat.

"And one final question that your fans are just dying to know," the oblivious presenter continued with her taunting. "How would you describe your ideal woman?"

"Hmm…" Betty heard the voice she despised most in the world, hum in reply as she stomped towards the abandoned remote control. "Someone gentle," Jughead smiled, then added, "But incredibly strong inside."

"I hate you so much, Jughead Jones!" Betty shouted at the television, pressing harder than necessary on the power button. Throwing the remote back on to the sofa cushions, she cleaned the room, then stomped off to get ready for bed, appetite long forgotten.

****

"The number you have called is currently unavailable, please leave a message after the beep."

Utterly guilt-ridden, Betty made her way to the closest phone booth during her lunch break in an effort to appease Archie’s mood. She knew he was probably busy with his music but she sighed all the same when she heard the familiar voice of the operator answer her call.

"Archie, I’m so sorry about yesterday," Betty began, her fingers twirling around the phone cord. "You’re totally way better than Jughead Jones exactly as you are. Maybe… maybe everyone else can’t see that just yet. But I do," she blushed as she held the telephone tighter in her hand. "You’ll always be number one to me."

She sent the message feeling no less uneasy than she had that morning. How would she know whether he forgave her? She had no mobile for him to reach her on. And she knew by now that his schedule wouldn’t allow for impromptu trips back to the apartment anytime soon.

Dismayed, she walked down the road, feeling miserable beyond belief. She gave a polite smile to one of the deliverymen from her workplace as she made her way back inside when an idea struck her.

****

"You think we might see him?"

"God! I’d die for a selfie!!"

Betty uncomfortably sifted through the throng of girls outside Archie’s studio. She straightened her back a little when she acknowledged the difference between them and her. She was the one he asked to join her in LA, she told herself as she looked at the pretty faces surrounding her.

"Excuse me," she said confidently to the doorman. "I’ve got a delivery here for Mr. Andrews."

She mentally patted herself on the back for working in the fast food industry as she entered the studio with ease over the complaining frenzy of girls behind her. Giggling, she held the delivery bag tighter as she made her way through the corridors as the doorman had advised her.

"She said, ‘even if nobody else understands you, I still do’ and ‘you’re my number one’." Betty’s body paralysed under the spell of the unforgettable words spoken by a voice she was well-acquainted with. "As if it means something coming from her."

_What?_

"How can you say that?" A woman’s voice asked. "That poor girl has worked so hard to make a living. That too, for you. Don’t you think you’re being rather cruel?"

"Come on Val," Archie scoffed. "You can hardly expect me, a soon-to-be world-renowned musician, spare any time for things like laundry or cooking. Do you honestly think I could have survived in LA all alone?"

"So, you basically just brought her to be…" Val hesitated, wincing at the words that were about to come out of her mouth. "Your… personal maid?"

_No. No. It’s not like that._

"It’s not like that," Archie shook his head. "She’s always been like that, ever since we were little. She’d do my homework for me and anything my parents made me do. No matter what I said to her, she never got upset. I wouldn’t have even asked her otherwise."

_At the beginning, the unluckiest, poorest, most unfortunate girl_

"Anyway, I didn’t force her to come," Archie reasoned. "I asked her if she wanted to. It was a question! She could have said no."

_Isn’t she supposed to end up being the most beautiful, most loved?_

"It’s great she works so hard for me because I hate doing anything besides music." He remarked.

_And live happily ever after with her prince?_

Betty stood completely still around the corner whilst millions of thoughts and emotions plunged through her towards the sealed abyss inside her heart. Unbeknownst to her, her fists had involuntarily curled inwards in her body’s attempt to keep her forbidden box closed.

"You’re making more than enough money now though," Val pointed out. "You should send her back home. She should still be in school right? And you’re sent to school through the agency so it’s not really fair to her."

"Okay. Okay, I’ll send her back to Riverdale." Archie feigned contemplation before a steady smirk spread across his face and he leaned in closer to Val, finger stroking her cheek. "Then you can take care of me, Val-e-rie."

Val pulled away from him, raising an eyebrow, "I’m pretty sure I already am? You’re always staying over at my place instead of going home."

Feeling a sting, she immediately released her palms, too broken to react to the wounds she’d inflicted. The sudden rush of blood raging within her hit wildly at the box held deep inside her chest. Locks unfastening themselves rapidly at the bidding of her fury. Darkness engulfed the atmosphere around Betty as she finally came to a crude realisation about the life she had lived.

Her days. Archie’s. Her nights. Archie’s. Her work. Her jobs. Her life. Archie’s. Archie’s. Archie’s.

Everything she is. Everything she was. It was all for Archie. Because of Archie.

"Well, yeah Val," Archie purred, sliding his finger across her jaw. "That’s coz you’re more my type."

Archie’s dreams. Archie’s future.

"If I had stayed in Riverdale, I’m sure my parents would’ve loved for me to live out the suburban ideal: Archie Andrews marries the plain, boring, perfect girl-next-door, Betty Cooper."

_A fate worse than death._

Betty inhaled deeply. Hands flat against her sides. Eyes closed. Heartbeat steady.

Swallowing, she let the final seal drop free on the box God had bestowed to every human being. Her soul twisted inside, adapting to the demonic vibes passing through her. Shuddering, she opened her eyes, now imbued with a hint of destruction. Licking her lips, she felt the unfamiliar poison of bitterness breathe through her.

_Who was she?_

A loud thud overhead alerted Archie and Valerie to their uninvited guest. The contents of the bag spilled out across the couch, fries buried themselves behind the pillows and sauce bloodied the white Egyptian cotton.

"Betty?" Archie startled.

"That’s her?" Valerie prompted. "Your childhood friend?"

Disregarding their questions, Betty coldly regarded the duo she positioned herself in front of.

"You," her clouded gaze fixed itself on Archie. "You thought I was plain and boring but you brought me here all the way to LA because," she furrowed her eyebrows, "because it was convenient?"

Archie didn’t deny it since it was the truth after all. She’d obviously heard it and he didn’t see any point in lying anyway.

"I see," she bent her head down, covering it with her hands.

"Oh my god, don’t cry." Archie groaned, hearing indecipherable muffled noises arising from her trembling figure. "It’s annoying!"

"Hehe… hah… hahah…..hahahahahaha," Archie stood bewildered at the sight of the chuckling girl before him. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!" Betty could barely contain her laughter at her own sheer madness and stupidity.

Looking at him made her recall her foolishness and she furiously lashed out, "You used me? You played around with my life like it meant nothing? I meant nothing? You were EVERYTHING to me!"

Archie flinched. He didn’t recognise the girl before him whose eyes were filled with hatred instead of unconditional adoration.

"Just you wait," Betty pointed at him. "I’m going to make sure you pay."

Her conviction mixed with the reality of what she said shook Archie from his cowering state. "You’re gonna get me back?" He sneered, "Right now, you can’t even lay a finger on me."

On cue, three security guards surrounded Betty, one lifting her over his shoulder at Archie’s beckoning.

"Get rid of her please," he ordered as she squirmed to release herself. "You don’t even have a chance, Betty," Archie caught her eye mockingly. "From here on out, I’ll be rising higher and higher in this world," gesturing around him. "A world where someone worthless and unordinary like you couldn’t even hope to fit in. Don’t wait for me to return to the apartment, I won’t be going back there again."

Betty’s grip tightened on the shirt of the guard who was carrying her as she glared at the boy who ruined her life.

Archie chanced one last glance, eyeing her up and down as he spoke once more, "If you do want to get revenge on me, you’d have to break into the entertainment world." He scoffed at the very prospect, "That’s obviously out of the question for you."

****

"You look amazing! It was just a cut and dye job but you look completely transformed."

Twirling a blonde strand around her finger, Betty bit her lip as she examined herself in the mirror. "Wow," she murmured.

"I bet you didn’t know you’d look this different when you came in here," The stylist told her as she went to the counter.

"I… really didn’t. How much do I owe you?"

The stylist pushed some numbers into the till, "That’ll be $150."

Betty’s eyes widened. She’d never spent that much on herself. Opening her purse, she looked at the notes inside. She’d worked hard for this money. Money was meant to be spent. That’s what people usually did, right? They treated themselves.

She handed the stylist the money then headed to the exit.

"Excuse me," the stylist called after her. "This is $200."

"You can keep the change," Betty tilted her head towards the sky outside, ready to face whatever the world would throw at her. "You helped me get rid of my old self!"

Archibald wasn’t going to know what hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betty's unsealed her own Pandora's box (I've seen lots of different interpretations on what this box represents for each human, so feel free to share what you think) and she's finally taking her first steps on her journey to self-discovery!
> 
> Would love to know what you guys think so far, so please leave a comment down below!


	3. Enter JUGHEAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty makes some headway in her quest for vengeance and finally comes face-to-face with the one and only Jughead Jones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update as well as any mistakes I'm sure I've made and will eventually return to correct. 
> 
> There's a couple of shifts in POV throughout this chapter, hopefully I've made it clear when and where. 
> 
> Btw, if you ever have any questions, you can message me on tumblr. My handle's 'notanotherotherone' (I have a strange affinity for weird usernames)

What do you do with the carton of milk way past it’s expiry date sitting in your fridge? What do you do with clothes that no longer fit? What do you do with a tissue once you’ve used it?

Betty stared into the bin where she had thrown hers away, realising that’s what she had amounted to in the end. A crumpled up piece of garbage lying in wait to join the other pieces of trash wasting away in their debris tainted lives.

Five days had passed since she was abandoned by the boy she had once been in love with. She had moved out of the expensive apartment they used to share and moved into one of the spare rooms in the house owned by Pops and his wife next door to the diner. No longer needing the extra rent money, she’d left her other part time job and continued working her evening shifts at the diner in place of paying rent to Pops. His wife had told her there was no need but Betty had insisted.

Reinventing herself also called for an updated wardrobe to go with her new blonde hair. She’d splashed out on some pretty pastel coloured tops and cardigans, even adding a few skirts. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at the girl in front of her in the off-white top paired with a salmon skirt and smiled exactly as her mother taught her to.

“Morning!” Betty called out as she came down the stairs.

“Hey,” Pops’ wife smiled back. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast?”

“Okay,” she replied taking the plate of pancakes held out for her. She pulled out a chair from the dining table sitting a across from Pops who was observing her carefully. Unlike his wife, it had taken him some getting used to her new look, but upon realising she remained the hardworking honest girl he had employed a little over a year age, he relented. However, from time to time, she caught him shaking his head at her and the flashes of pity he shot her when she came into the diner for her shift hadn’t gone amiss. Betty hadn’t shared all the details surrounding her sudden upheaval with the couple so she felt uneasy under their unwarranted sympathy.

After exchanging a knowing look with his wife, Pops turned to Betty and asked, “Are you going out job hunting again?”

“Yes,” Betty answered, slowly realising why they were so concerned.

“You dropped out from high school right?”

She bit her lip and nodded grimly, “Right.”

“Do,” Pops cleared his throat trying to better phrase his question without adding insult to injury. “Do you think you’ll manage even though you didn’t graduate?’ Looking at her crestfallen figure as the words left his mouth, he realised he’d failed.

If she had stayed in Riverdale, she would have completed high school and probably would have secured a decent job, a decent life.

_It’s all his fault._

Betty glared as her dark thoughts entwined, redirecting her to the root of all her problems. Archibald’s agency paid for his studies, a fact she had learned not too long ago, and it seemed she was destined to be labelled a dropout for the rest of her sorry life.

“I’ll definitely make him pay,” Betty gritted, her eyes glazing over as she stabbed her fork into the pancake.

****

In order to exact her vengeance, Betty needed to become famous. Fast. In order to get famous, she needed to get scouted and after a couple of days cycling around LA, she was beginning to learn that was easier said than done. Strolling around in the ‘Mecca of Talent Scouts’, Betty started to second guess her latest decisions.

She’d earned a lot of money from all the merchandise she used to hoard but she spent it all on her hair and wardrobe. Catching sight of her face in a car window, she wondered if she had been wrong to not spend any of it on cosmetics. Nobody would look twice at her plain face and makeup was the thing she wanted most of all. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that’s exactly why she didn’t buy it. She hadn’t wanted the money she associated with Archibald to contribute to what she wanted most of all. It’d feel dirty. Tainted. No. She’d buy it with clean money that she would work hard to earn.

At that, Betty stopped in her tracks. She had always given the same fierce dedication and determination in anything she set her mind to. Why was she waiting around to get scouted? When she thought about it, she had already managed to survive in LA this long all by herself. In that aspect, she’d already surpassed Archibald. Anything he could do, she could do better. If he rose to fame in a year, she would do it in less than a year. Nobody would take notice of her? Then hell, she’d make them notice!

Meanwhile, lounging on a chair as he waited for his car to arrive to take him to the recording studio, oblivious to the curses currently being thrown at him, sat Archie Andrews with his manager, Valerie Brown.

“Aren’t you worried?” she asked him as she eyed his relaxed pose, hands behind his head and feet laden on a table in front of him.

“Worried?”

Val raised her eyebrows, “Your childhood friend?” His lack of response spurred her to continue, “She threatened you?”

“Aw Val,” Archie smirked. “Are you scared for me?”

“Idiot. You should be scared for yourself,” she glared at him incredulous of how he had forgotten the dark surge of fury emanating from the girl whose heart he’d ripped up. She didn’t cry, didn’t weep, but cackled. Val had seen nothing more than emptiness in Betty’s eyes that evening and it made her blood run cold. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” she told him. “Don’t underestimate her.”

“Look, you don’t know her,” Archie retorted. “I basically grew up with her so rest assured when I tell you there’s not the slightest chance she’ll make it in showbiz.”

****

Working in LME Productions afforded the employees there an endless supply of celebrities for their viewing pleasure. Therefore, anyone who worked there had the definition of professionalism imprinted on them. That’s not to say they were robots set with a script for every possible scenario, suited and plastered with an overly-friendly smile. Oh no, it was very much the opposite.

Betty knew celebrities were just ordinary people having (thought she’d) known one most of her life but on entering LME, she instantly knew that she’d stepped into a world so far from her own. She swore she could smell the glamour dripping from the vaulted entryway right down to the reception desk she headed towards. And beyond that? A field of opportunity encased by marble stairwells, illuminated in a heavenly light she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try.

Which is what led her to a 15-minute autobiographical account of her life until this moment to a very composed yet discretely uncomfortable receptionist.

“…You see?” Betty insisted to the woman who wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to be seeing yet diligently nodded along. “So I want to become famous! Can you please let me talk to someone who can help with that?”

“Erm, sure!” the woman perked up, eager to finally move things along. “Do you have an appointment with anyone?”

“No,” she mumbles her reply. “I only got the idea about an hour ago.”

Annoyed but not surprised, the receptionist recommended she return once she has made an appointment but having forgone four days without any progress, Betty was unwilling to turn back. Not now. Not when she was so close.

“There’s nobody here for me to speak to?” Betty pleaded.

“No. I didn’t say that but-“

“So why can’t you put me through to someone?” Her voice had raised an octave higher and the receptionist who had been trying to get the attention of her superior for a while now, darted her eyes around the area for an alternative. Her reprieve came in the form of a middle aged man who had noticed the exchange and sensed the desperate plea for help.

“What’s going on here?” he interrupted, standing next to Betty.

“She-“ The receptionist caught off-guard startled then hurried to correct herself, “Mr. Keller!”

****

“Okay,” Mr. Keller held his hand to his chin as he scratched the stubble of his beard as he listened to Betty’s request. This time she didn’t recount her life story. Instead keeping it succinct and to the point, somewhat aware of the anxiety she had caused the receptionist.

Now she was seated on what was possibly the most expensive couch she had ever set eyes on. Leathered black, firm yet so deeply satisfying to sit on. Although that may have been the result of neither her mind nor her body getting a lot of rest as of late.

“So you want to become famous?” He repeated. Despite what he’d seen earlier, he could tell from her carefully poised position and politeness that she was a well-mannered, earnest girl.

“Yes!”

Mr. Keller smiled adding ‘tenacity’ to his mental list of pros, “You seem very determined!”

“Oh irrevocably!” she exclaimed happily at the prospect of things moving forward.

“So, which sector are you interested in?”

Betty looked back at him blankly.

“Singing?” He questioned simultaneously wondering if he had been wrong in his presumptions.

“I prefer listening to it.”

Mr. Keller’s eyebrow twitched. “Acting?” he tried.

“Not interested.”

“Talent?”

“I’m probably the epitome of untalented.”

_Well shit._

“Security!” he bellowed, immediately standing to leave.

“Hey, no!” Betty argued, mimicking his movements. “You said you’d help me!”

“I know what you really want,” he accused, his kind face now masked under a fierce glare. “You just want to get close to Jughead!”

“Huh?” Betty looked back at him confused as a guard locked his arm around her. Struggling against him, focusing all her energy to keep herself fixed to her spot, she continued, “You mean Jughead Jones? He works for this agency?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Mr. Keller was frustrated he’d almost let this imposter get under his thumb. He followed the guard, who’d eventually managed to uproot the stubborn blonde, as they approached the corner leading to the exit. “Only people with talent can succeed in this world!”

Loathe as she was to admit to it, she was prepared to counter with a speech on some passably untalented Kardashian sisters who were faring seemingly well, when a deep, familiar voiced pricked her ears.

“What’s with this uproar, Sheriff?”

The sound alone forced her into a state of animosity. However, she’d already turned towards it’s origin and the sight of the owner’s piercing brown eyes, hooded by his girlishly long eyelashes; messy dark curls and that godawful hat he wore so pretentiously sent her flying into a physical state of repulsion.

Mr. Keller stood aghast at the obvious disgust she didn’t even try to hide from _the_ Jughead Jones. Up till now, he was under the impression that she was another crazed Jughead fan. Maybe she just has a different way of expressing it, he thought to himself.

“Does she want to work here, Sheriff?” Jughead caught Mr. Keller’s attention.

As Mr. Keller, or the Sheriff (a nickname?) reiterated the situation, Betty had a small epiphany. Her irrational contempt for Jughead had only been spurred by how she felt about Archie. _She didn’t have to hate him anymore!_

Oblivious to her latent discoveries, Jughead confirmed what he understood had transpired with the Sheriff. “So she wants to enter the entertainment industry despite no interest or enthusiasm for any of it’s aspects?”

Betty resumed a normal stance ready to make a better impression, ignorant of the fact that it had already been made.

_**Two minutes later:** _

“Don’t come back here again!!” she heard Jughead yell as she sat sprawled out in front of the building where the guard had left her at the actor’s bidding.

_Nevermind. She hated him after all!!!_

****

The Sheriff carried on venting as he walked back to the lobby with Jughead. “I mean normally you audition,” he vexed. “Some people even bring in demo-tapes but who the hell walks in demanding to be made a star? She’s crazy!”

“It was probably a spur of the moment thing. I wouldn’t worry too much about her,” Jughead trailed off as he saw his manager approaching him.

“Hey dad! Jug,” Kevin waved as he approached the two men. “The editor from Blink! should be arriving soon. We should get going.”

Jughead followed Kevin down the corridor he was gesturing towards already making his mind up to forget about what had just transpired.

****

After three hours digitising files into the new systems the company had upgraded to, the Sheriff felt he’d earned a nice cup of coffee. Heck maybe he’d even treat himself to the Twix he’d stashed at the top of the cupboard in the break room earlier that week. Strained from the prolonged lack of movement, he stretched his back and legs as he made his way there, taking in the view outside from the glazed wall as he passed by.

He thought the weather looked nice. Nice enough to momentarily consider whether he should take a short stroll to the small café across the road instead. Quite a lot of people were walking by which wasn’t unusual. Hankering for the rare glimpse of a celebrity, tourists stopped here often and by the looks of it, some had gotten lucky. He edged closer to see who the onlookers were pointing to. Jughead was likely still in the building so it couldn’t be- _Holy shit. She can’t have been there this whole time._

****

“She’s been there this whole time!” On the floor below the one the Sheriff was currently on, two employees unintentionally confirmed what he had hoped wasn’t true.

They were both carrying out odd-jobs here and there and had noticed the spectacle outside for some time now.

“She can’t possibly think she’ll spot a celebrity right? They obviously wouldn’t use the main entrance,” they laughed and then went on with their usual routines.

Intrigued by what he’d overheard whilst waiting for Kevin to finish up some paperwork, Jughead went to the spot by the window that the girls had vacated. It was the blonde girl. Her once tightly wound ponytail slowly coming undone under the unrelenting nature of time and the cold air forcing the sweet temptation of tiredness to torment her skin. Nevertheless, she sat in the same spot she’d been left hours ago, back straighter than an arrow, eyes boring holes into the entrance from which she’d been evacuated.

He didn’t miss it though. The look in her eye that he’d shaken off before, owing it to a crazy girl’s hunger for fame. Desperation? No. There was that. But something else too. Some deep kind of pain.

“Let’s go Jug, I’m done.” Kevin’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Sure,” he murmured his reply, taking one more look at the girl outside. _Why?_ He couldn’t help but wonder as he joined Kevin in the elevator.

****

Brushes of orange and red painted the horizon signaling the day was nearing it’s end but Betty remained resolute. She couldn’t deny the numbness of her knees that lay waste on the hard concrete and the cold had seeped in through the particles of her clothing some time back.

Briefly – very briefly – she pondered going to another agency and trying her luck there but she shut that idea down as soon as it unveiled itself. LME alone competed with the company Archibald belonged to as the top ranking agency. No one else would do. She had to get them to take her no matter what!

****

Word had spread fast around the firm of the blonde oddity. Not wanting to deal with the problem, the Sheriff had barricaded himself in his office with pitched ideas, scripts that needed proofreading and boxes and boxes of paperwork. He finally relieved himself of his duties at ten o’clock and found himself irresistible to the urge to check up on his hindrance for the day.

He was pleasantly bemused to find the spot outside empty.

With the burden removed, he confessed he’d secretly marveled at her unwavering diligence. She’d certainly managed to hold out for a while, he thought as he made for the building’s exit.

“Mr. Keller. Head of the talent section of LME Productions. 47 years old. Born March 10th.”

Stopping him dead in his tracks as soon as he stepped out of the building was Betty Cooper in all her fearsome glory. Under her eagle-eyed stare, he found himself unable to move, like a deer caught in the claws of a bloodthirsty lioness.

He shook his head and stood a little taller in an effort to remind himself that there was no godly reason for him to be afraid of a 17 year old girl. Then he spoke, albeit his voice a little shaky, “I thought you’d gone home.”

“I found out employees use this side-exit at night so I moved over here,” she shrugged. He carried on walking ahead to rid himself of the nuisance once and for all but she continued to hound him, “Please Mr. Keller! Let me join the talent section!”

“Didn’t you say you were against it? There was too much variety?” he repeated her words from earlier that day, peeved at their impertinence.

“That was just a joke,” she lied.

“No.”

“Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Forget it.”

“I’ll do anything,” she pleaded, gripping the handlebars of her bike as he waved down a taxi.

  
“You,” he glowered at her as got into the taxi, “are never going to make it!” He slammed the door shut and rubbed his forehead to release the pent up tension.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Within moments of the taxi taking off, the Sheriff debated whether he should hope today’s drama had come to an end. The denial for this request came in the form of a vicious cyclist who plastered a palm on the passenger side window.

“Sir, I’m going to pull over,” the taxi driver told the Sheriff apologetically.

“Please don’t,” the Sheriff begged.

“I’m sorry but I can’t drive with some crazy chick manhandling my taxi. I don’t get paid enough.”

Only because he could sympathise all too well, he acquiesced and let himself out. Then, with a heavy exhale, he turned to face his tormentor.

For the second time today, he came to a standstill. Petrified.

Before, he’d told himself it was unreasonable to be afraid of a girl who was decades younger than him. ‘Godly’ was the word he used. Now he realised he couldn’t have been more wrong. In every sense of the word she was ungodly. Chaos screamed in her soulless eyes. Hell raged through her. He could feel it scalding his heart, rendering him defenseless.

“He said the same thing,” she spat out. “You both said the same thing! How can you know that if you won’t even give me a chance?”

Her voice wavered a little and the Sheriff’s gaze softened. She wasn’t much younger than Kevin when he’d begged him to introduce him to this industry. He’d worked so hard and now he was not only the youngest agent in the country, he was managing the biggest star in Hollywood.

“I’m not giving up,” she interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll come back tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, every single day. And if you throw me out, I’ll wait outside, just like today. I won’t stop,” she promised, her eyes hardening. “Please?” she pleaded again. “Won’t you even consider letting me join?”

The Sheriff’s first impression of Betty had been wrong. His second, that of a deluded fan girl, had also been proven incorrect. Now, as she stood before him commanding all authority yet with her name to none, he examined her carefully.

There was something inside her. Dark and twisted. He didn’t know how long it had been there but he was certain it had manifested itself where her heart should have been. Here was a girl who had nothing to lose. Bringing her in to the company might well be the worst decision he ever made, or, (and this was the path he was leaning more heavily on) she could be the best thing to ever happen to LME Productions.

All she was asking for was a chance.


	4. Nowhere Girl

“Thank you so much!!” Betty grinned appreciatively at the Sheriff.

“There’s really no need to thank me,” he grumbled.

Having not yet recovered from Betty’s ‘shortcomings’ from the night before, he was more than a little wary of her perkiness. He’d asked her to come in this morning so he could a) Finally sleep off his rollercoaster of a day and b) Discuss the details of her joining the agency at a more reasonable hour.

Betty, on the other hand, was riding out her high. She’d used her incredibly fervent determination to get past her first hurdle in her journey to reek vengeance on Archibald. Although she didn’t say it aloud, she was eternally grateful to the Sheriff.

“Look,” he brought her attention back. “There’s a reason why I gave in.”

“A reason?” Betty repeated.

“We have sort of an aptitude test here at LME and those who are talented enough to make it through are the ones we take under our wings,” he explained. “And if the President thinks you don’t have what it takes, you’re officially turned away from LME.”

“Okay!” Betty lit up much to his chagrin. “Well then obviously I have to participate, when does it begin?”

The Sheriff fell into a long-winded explanation of the various details involved in the application process; making sure to emphasise on words like ‘experience’ and ‘preparation time’ to indicate her lack thereof... to no avail. His hints to lower her expectations were interpreted as suggestions that she needed to work harder and subtle attempts to scare her away were received with an imperative to be the best.

In the end, she just clasped her hands, beamed and thanked him for the umpteenth time then went on her merry way and he leaned back in his chair, more fearful of her than last night, if that was even possible.

****

Barely containing her excitement, Betty skipped out of the office. She looked over the application pack she’d been given confirming what the Sheriff had told her. The test was to take place on the 17th – only five days to prepare. Once she passed she’d earn a place in LME’s talent section (so many things were misconstrued as ‘talent’ these days, she decided she may as well) and then she was definitely going to make it big!

She’d been so preoccupied with thoughts on what she needed to arrange and plan to be ready for her audition that she didn’t see the shadow approaching from around the corner. She noticed too late and before she knew it, her nose was throbbing and her pack lay waste on a pair of black combat boots.

“I... I’m.. sorry,” Betty managed to say before she looked up to see who owned them.

Of course. Just her luck. Only she would have to suffer the fate of seeing the hottest star in Hollywood two days in a row. How annoying.

“Jughead Jones,” she muttered as she knelt down to pick up the papers that lay atop his shoes.

Before she could resist, he had snatched one out of her hands. He snorted then asked, “The Newcomer Casting?” though it was obviously rhetorical. “Seems like the Sheriff ended up giving in after all.” He scrutinised her for a moment and she waited for the inevitable insult that accompanied his disapproving tone.

He snorted.

“Woah, what the hell?” she fumed. “You can’t just presume I won’t make it through!”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Oh please, you may as well have,” she countered. Then she folded her arms across her chest and looked him directly in the eye, “I’m not going to be wasting my time doing this. I honestly believe I’ll get in!”

“Hey, no, you don’t understand,” he tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows. “You won’t be wasting your time, you’re right.” He paused then with a smirk added, “You’ll be wasting the time of the people on the panel judging you.” Betty sputtered at his brusqueness but before she could retaliate he straightened back up and looked down at her, seriousness creeping over him. “Why?” he asked simply. “Why do you want to enter this world when you aren’t interested in it?”

Her motives were far from pure. She was well aware of that, so she stayed silent.

Not receiving a reply made him all the more curious so he pressed on, “Why did you go so far to convince the Sheriff? Are you just curious about this side of the industry? Or is this just some big adventure to you?”

“It’s to get revenge on Archie Andrews!” she blurted out. She couldn’t help the image of the young girls with flimsy starry-eyed dreams his questions evoked and she definitely didn’t want him to put her in the same category as them. “Got a problem with that?”

“Archie Andrews,” he mumbled, rooting around his pocket. He pulled his phone out, typed something in, then waited. “Hang on,” he showed her the screen. “I don’t get great signal on this floor.”

She furrowed her eyes at the Google search tool he had open, realisation washing over her. “Why do you have to look him up?” she spluttered. “You must have heard of him! He’s super popular! _The_ most popular musician right now! His debut single hit number one on Billboard 200! He’s a musical genius!” Suddenly she stopped, forcing her eyes shut and shook her head, furious at herself for reverting so easily back into the naive girl she once was. “Look, just forget I said that-“

“Oh!” Jughead cut in. She didn’t know if he was choosing to not acknowledge her ramblings or if he’d never heard them in the first place but she decided she’d rather not know. “I’ve heard of him,” he said, rather pleased with himself. “Well, then all you have to do is sing a song, that’s all! You’ll get your heart’s desire!”

 _That’s all??_ He must be joking, she thinks. There’s no way he can honestly think that’ll be enough to satisfy her thirst for revenge.

“But obviously only if you make it,” he says, throwing more doubtful glances her way.

“Don’t worry,” she bit back. “I’ll make it.”

“I’m only saying this for your own benefit. The casting process is in a whole other league to persuading the Sheriff.” He maintained eye contact only now she couldn’t look away. A chill swept over her, freezing her in place. Not even the demon inside her dared awaken and face his piercing gaze. “Don’t think having a lot of courage is going to get you through everything.”

Betty was terrified.

“But you know,” he chuckled now, abruptly ridding his menacing attitude as if it had never appeared. “You don’t look like you’ll listen to me anyway so go ahead and fail. Miserably.”

As he carried on taunting her, she thought maybe she had imagined it. It happened so fast and so suddenly, she couldn’t believe it was real. No way could America’s favourite gentleman, man of (almost) everyone’s dreams, project that kind of animosity.

“Good luck,” he told her when he finally released her from his gibes. “And go forth with lightning in your eyes and fall into the pit of tragedy that awaits you!”

****

Long after she’d finished her shift at Pops, and into the early hours of morning, Betty couldn’t get Jughead’s words out of her head. He mocked her, yes, but his insults were layered in sarcasm. Those words however, were ablaze with poisonous hostility. She’d racked her brains all day but couldn’t for the life of her figure out the root of his hatred.

_Don’t think having a lot of courage is going to get you through everything._

She recalled what he said as she pored over her casting forms. They sent shivers down her spine even as she was telling herself she wasn’t afraid of him. Eventually, she cast aside her forms and hunted out a magazine and scissors. She flicked to the page that had what she was looking for and cut through it furiously.

“Look, Jughead,” she told his cut-out. “Just coz you’re some bigshot, I’m not gonna squeal about you and listen to everything you say as though it’s word of God.” She grabbed a thumbtack from the box on her desk and pinned the image on to the wall. “I’ll be a star before you know it, and you’ll worship me along with that other... Jerk!” She slammed her hand down hard to fix the cut-out to the wall in a show of anger.

There were two images side-by-side on the wall now. One, a small magazine cut-out of Jughead from a column article about a TV premiere of one of his movies. The other, a two-page spread on Archibald. If anyone entered her room, they’d probably assume she was a fan of both with a better following for Archie. In reality, the size reflected the level of Betty’s anger. And Jughead Jones was treading dangerous waters.

****

The days merged into nights and nights into days and soon the day of the aptitude test arrived. If Betty could even call it that. It was unlike anything she’d heard of before but then she supposed somewhere as exclusive as LME would be purposely difficult about who they allowed into their ranks.

No matter. She’d just put her best foot forward.

Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself when she was led to the room where the other candidates were preparing and she found herself blending into the wall. There were hundreds of girls gathered, each one prettier and more charismatic than the other.

Betty didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t glamorous wannabe models and when it gradually dawned on her that’s exactly what half of them were, she admitted she was totally out of her league. All she had to offer was her mile long legs that she’d put on display with her shortest skirt and the foolish bravery that had gotten her this far. Without a spot of makeup, she went unnoticed in the spell of glossed lips and smokey eyes. Before she’d left, Pop’s wife told her she was naturally pretty and she let those words carry her until now. Whether she was or wasn’t, the features of the other girls were struck with an allure she just didn’t have nor capable of attaining until she got her pay cheque from Pops.

There was only one person she faulted for this and she dug out a trinket box and some material to distract herself with the other medium for revenge she’d started to explore: Voodoo.

She was so engrossed in cursing Archibald whilst she stitched together his doll’s outfit, she almost didn’t notice the commotion unfolding nearby.

“Who brought a kid along?” a dark haired girl yelled at the crowd. “This is a serious competition for me where I need to do my best! In this dog-eat-dog world, don’t think you can distract me by dragging along your litter.” She examined the group around her, “Which one of you is her mother?” Suddenly, her eyes landed on the only person in the group with a sewing kit in her hand, finding her answer immediately, then pushing the little girl towards her.

“I don’t know her!” Betty argued.

“Don’t lie,” she shot back. “I’ve seen your type before. Bringing in your kid to swing a little sympathy. God, I can practically smell your middle-class mediocrity. There’s no other way someone ordinary like you could make it here. Just give up and go home.” She gave a gesture as though she was shooing them away, turned her nose up and made to walk away.

Betty was reeling. Once again someone she didn’t know made out like they knew her inside out.

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Some of the other girls had come forward now to check on the teary eyed child that had been slung onto Betty’s lap. She had gorgeous long black locks, a fringe adorning her forehead, and strikingly gorgeous blue eyes. She looked adorable. Nothing like her at all, Betty thought, making herself angry all over again.

“Look little girl,” Betty seethed, her voice full of displeasure. “Do you honestly believe all your problems will get solved by crying?”

_Why was she crying? Nobody cared. Alice Cooper assured her of that often. Nobody really cares. You’re just a nuisance. People will like you a lot better so long as you turn that frown upside down. Now remember, don’t cry, don’t get upset and if you absolutely can’t help yourself, make sure not to let anyone see. It is not their problem._

“Now ladies, I’m going to guide you to the casting hall. Please make sure any belongings are secured in the lockers we provided. We are not liable for any missing items,” a lady’s voice ended the ruckus and the girls began to disperse. Some were panicking, others getting sudden cases of cold feet. There were a few like the raven haired girl who had snapped at Betty earlier, smiling cheek to cheek as she played with the pearls on her neck, eager to get started.

“Please form two lines in your assigned numerical order.”

Betty stood at the back not knowing what she’d gotten herself into, clueless about what was awaiting her. Her resolve to get revenge was the only thing she was certain of, thus she deemed it the single tool she needed to drive herself onwards.

She was so focused on her goal, keeping her eyes ahead of her, she forgot about the young girl she’d vented her frustrations on. Had Betty taken one last glance, she would have seen the remnants of a smirk under the guise of her wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

****

“Hmmm? Since when do you check LME’s live twitter feed?” Kevin asked, peering over Jughead’s shoulder.

“I don’t, not really,” Jughead said, locking his phone and tucking it into his pocket.

“That’s right, it’s the Newcomers Casting today!” Kevin remembered, then smiled knowing he’d hit the nail on the head when Jughead shot him an annoyed look. “Someone you’re interested in participating?”

“Maybe,” was all Jughead offered. Then he removed himself from the conversation by taking out his script to read over.

_Revenge. How far will she get with that ridiculous incentive?_

****

Seated on the panel were the heads of each of the respective sectors of LME, including Betty’s self-proclaimed guardian angel, Mr. Keller. She gave him a small wave that he pretended not to see. There was an empty seat in the middle and she squinted her eyes to get a closer look at the nametag in front of it.

She abandoned this feat when a loud drumroll broke through the tense atmosphere and a stream of dancers in rainbow coloured flapper dresses flooded through the doors. Bursts of trumpets accompanied them overhead as they twirled towards the centre of a hall, arms thrown out gesturing to the door in between. It flew open and a dark silhouette stood at the entrance. Neon lights bounced down the path towards the empty seat as he made his way there.

“Candidates, I present to you the President of LME Productions!”

Betty’s face joined the aghast looks cast towards the mortifying display of extravagance with which the President had made his entrance. He was handsome, sure, maybe what you’d call a silver fox, but that didn’t stop the girls looking horrified at his extraordinary appearance. Save for a hat, he was dressed head to toe in a cowboy outfit. He took his seat at the table, oblivious to the cringing grimaces thrown his way.

“Welcome to LME!” he announced happily.

For what seemed like the millionth time that week, Betty questioned what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

 


	5. She Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! I'd been writing all the chapters on my phone so far coz I thought that would be a good idea (said no one ever) and didn't back them up because I'm a genius and then my phone completely crashed on me so I lost EVERYTHING. 
> 
> Anyways, when I tried to rewrite the chapter, I was attempting to replicate it word for word which was next to impossible since I don't have a photographic memory. So I took a teensy break to reboot myself and finally pumped this out. 
> 
> In this chapter, I used the song 'You Found Me' by The Fray
> 
> It's probably loaded with typos coz I haven't proofread it yet so I apologise in advance.
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr! My handle's notanotherotherone

The candidates had gathered backstage either nervously awaiting their turn or checking out the competition from the sidelines. Most of them had huddled into groups, discussing what they had divulged about the others and who they had to watch out for.

The first stage of the process involved showcasing a talent - any talent, regardless of the section you were applying for.

Betty stood by what she’d told the Sheriff. She believed talent was something you were born with and she had yet to stumble upon hers should she have one. Now skills, well, she was more than equipped with those.

As number 61, the most recent applicant, Betty was to be the last to go up. She’d checked the rules thoroughly and knew there was no limit as to the number of people who progressed through to the next stage from here. Therefore, she mostly kept to herself unless the girls made a huge fuss and then even she couldn’t help but be curious.

“Number 59!”

Betty inhaled deeply. She’d already experienced the ‘what if I _am_ out of my league?’ nerves during numbers 1-10. Whilst 11-27 performed, she wondered whether the act she’d prepared was even in line with what the panel wanted to see.

“Oh great! Another dancer,” she heard one of the girls nearby whine.

Betty watched the girl’s friends grimace as they watched number 59 move to Bob Sinclair’s _Rock this Party_. Great song, sure. Unfortunately three other people before this dancer had thought so too.

As if on cue, one of those three began to cry. Sobbing something about losing the impression she’d made as others close by consoled her.

The whole point of the first phase was to catch the judge’s interest which was a feat unto itself considering the President’s flamboyant entrance. Nevertheless, it was this aspect Betty reminded herself of from number 28 onwards when she decided standing out might not be such a horrible thing after all.

Of course, they weren’t all singers and dancers. There’d been a few magicians, some ventriloquists and even a mime. However, it was the pearl wearing fiend that clearly stole the show.

She’d sauntered onstage when her number was called out, elegance gracing her every step. By the time the Sheriff had asked for her name, Betty had already heard it in the whispers around her. As it turned out, Veronica Lodge was the daughter of an actress who starred in a hit TV show in the early 90s. The actress had faded out of the spotlight not long after it was over but her performance had been unforgettable, critics and actors still talking about it today.

Betty had chanced a glance at Veronica when she told the panel her name and whilst the others took note of the judges’ approving faces, Betty saw the briefest flash of annoyance flicker across Veronica’s face before she set the corners of her mouth into a sickeningly sweet smile.

She handed the panel a selection of plays asking them to choose a script, page and line number. She then proceeded to recite from memory, interweaving between the characters, switching from wild fits of rage to heartfelt love confessions seamlessly. Another script was chosen and she changed her accent and tone accordingly. When she was done, the President was practically beaming and the head of acting immediately engaged him in a discussion of her talents.

She was a shoe-in.

****

The Sheriff flicked between the applications in front of him whilst time lapsed between the acts. He and the rest of the panel had been happy with what they’d seen so far despite the lack of variety but the President had the final say. Despite his ridiculous behaviour and excessive taste for flair, the man had a brilliant eye for future stars. He wasn’t in charge of the biggest agency in Hollywood for nothing.

Almost as though it was on reflex, the Sheriff’s face screwed up when he pulled up the last application form. Betty’s muddy headshot glared back and him and he ran a hand down his face, exhaustion immediately setting in. He silently prayed he wasn’t going to regret giving in to this fearsome girl as he watched the crew help set up for her act.

“Number 61, you’re up!”

A heavy sigh escaped him as he watched Betty walk on stage rolling a cloth covered round table in front of her. She had the same horrifyingly tight ponytail atop her head and wore an apron over a white turtleneck and jeans. To the untrained eye, she looked deceptively normal.

Overhead, the projector had been set up and she stopped the cart so that the screen would reflect whatever was on it.

“Hello there darling,” the President spoke first. “Would you tell us your name and what’s brought you here today?”

“My name is Elizabeth Cooper,” she responded firmly. “And I’m here to catch up to Archie Andrews!”

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh no._

The Sheriff dropped his head into hands. Didn’t she remember he threw her out the first time because he thought she was after Jughead? Why the hell is she namedropping Archie Andrews? Someone from a rival agency no less. She was here by his recommendation. If she messed this up, his hard earned reputation was in the toilet. The cackles he could hear backstage told him she’d already become a laughing stock and he looked at the President from the corner of his eye to see his reaction.

He was already watching him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Don’t worry.” The panel maintained their disdain so the President explained further, “I think, if she was just after Archie Andrews, she would have applied to the same agency.” He took in the expressionless blonde save for the iron clad look in her eyes. Her hands were neatly folded to the front and her chin positioned to parallel the soles of her feet alarmingly well. “Don’t you think there’s more to her than meets the eye?”

“No,” the Sheriff promptly disagreed. He thought he’d seen enough of her to warrant this degree of certainty. The rest of the panel followed suit and the President shook his head at them disapprovingly.

“You people have no imagination. Just think about the possibilities!” His eyes sparkled, clearly building a ridiculously romanticised backstory for Betty in his overactive imagination. But, this was good. No, this was great! She’d already got the President’s attention so maybe she did have a chance after all.

The President nodded at Betty, “Thank you. Go ahead.”

She motioned backstage and placed herself behind the table as the sound of piano keys flooded the room. She lifted the cloth with both hands in a dramatic wave to reveal an assortment of knives… and apples.

 _I found God on the corner of First in Amistad_  
_Where the west was all but won_  
_All alone_  
_Smoking his last cigarette_  
_I said where you been?_  
_He said, ask anything_

She picked up the smallest knife and began carving shapes – no, petals into the red skin of the apples at lightning speed. The patterns she was making, so delicate, so intricate, so beautiful. The entire panel was mesmerised with the way her fingers danced with the knife to the lyrics.

_Where were you  
When everything was falling apart_

Reaching for a new apple, she picked up a pairing knife and sliced it in two with a deft blow. She gathered the carved apples and placed them around the cart throwing the few that didn’t fit to the members of the panel.

 _Lost and insecure_  
_You found me, you found me_  
_Lying on the floor  
Surrounded, surrounded_

Holding one of the halves of the apple she’d chopped in one hand and the knife in the other, she began slicing through, stopping before it went all the way then made another slit perpendicular to it. She repeated the motion with the removed segment again and again, her hands twirling and twisting around the fruit before she did the same with the other piece.

The blade was her instrument, she, the musician. Chords strung out with every cut she made and tempos rose and dipped with the swish of the handle.

 _Why'd you have to wait?_  
_Where were you, where were you?_  
_Just a little late  
You found me, you found me_

Betty settled the blade down arranging the pieces in the middle of the table as the music trailed off leaving the room in a stunned silence.

All eyes were fixed on the model Betty had positioned in the middle of the table. Two swans facing away from one another elegantly graced the centre. Surrounding them were the elaborately designed apples engraved with dainty petals and sophisticated patterns.

****

As soon as the music stopped, Betty closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on breathing in and out. Her hands were still trembling from moving so fast so she gripped her apron to stabilise them. Not yet ready to face her judgement she took a moment to compose herself.

She’d heard the girls sniggering when she introduced herself but she hadn’t let it get to her. Now, the deafening silence that accompanied her heavy panting caused her nerves to flood back in.

This was a skill she’d learnt back when she worked at the hotel in Riverdale. When the Andrews took her in, she didn’t want to be a burden so she browsed the web hoping to find something to contribute. Something only she could offer. When Archibald was out flirting with girls, she was bandaging cuts on her fingers from swinging the knife too hard. Whilst he serenaded his latest flame, she showcased her skills to his parents. They loved it. They sang her praises, grateful for what she could add to the hotel and overheard whispers of how well the hotel would run with her there.

“Marvellous!! Bravo! Bravo!!” A deep throated laugh interrupted her throats and she looked up to see the President standing, his hands clasped together.

Had he liked it? She looked around, observing the pleased faces of the rest of the panel. Had they all liked it?

“Sorry,” Betty bit her lip, looking at the extra apples she’d flung to them, now rolling around on the table they were sat behind. “I kind of overdid it.”

“Nonsense,” the head of dancing told her. “That was amazing.”

Betty stood agape, not believing the reaction she’d gotten. She looked at the Sheriff questioningly and when he gave her a proud nod, she let a smile break free.

“Thank you,” she beamed and then skipped backstage.

She’d never have imagined that something she learned from Archibald’s hotel would come in handy. Maybe the fool did have his uses. But it was for his parents’ sakes that she’d adopted the skill and practiced like crazy to perfect it. God, she’d been such a silly, earnest kid, but now as she thought back to the positive response she’d received, she wished she could thank them.

As she untied her apron, she hummed to herself, finally finding herself relaxing. Her confidence quickly returned and she thought back to the words that had been at the root of it crumbling:

_Don’t think having a lot of courage is going to get you through everything._

Well, maybe not for _him_. Clearly, courage had been more than enough for her to enter the world of show-business. She was certain she’d passed the first test with flying colours.

“Hey,” Betty turned around to find Veronica staring at her.

“The applicants for the singing section, please follow me,” a lady called out behind them.

“Your fruit carving act was extraordinary,” Veronica told a surprised Betty. “It was so out of place at a casting agency, of course people are going to remember you.”

_Oh._

“No jealousy please,” Betty retorted. She should’ve known better than to expect praise from her.

Veronica snorted, “Me? Jealous?” She looked Betty up and down before speaking again, “Don’t go getting any crazy ideas.”

“What?” Betty asked, not sure what she was alluding to but affronted all the same.

“I mean, sure, you stand out and you’ve got the President’s attention. Considering the peculiarity of your act, that’s no surprise,” she shrugged. “You stand out because you’re strange. In other words, you’re like a rare animal people don’t see too often… like a pygmy hippopotamus!” Now Betty was definitely offended but before she could argue, Veronica continued, “I predict that I’ll emerge as the most promising rising star from this process but you, you’ll be the first to flunk out.”

Betty stared at Veronica aghast, confused about what she’d done to deserve the unnecessary chastisement.

“Next we will put you through a small reaction test.”

At some point whilst Betty was replaying Veronica’s words over and over again in her head, they were led back out to the stage and much to her displeasure, sitting next to one another.

“Someone will speak to you through this mobile phone,” the speaker held up an old flip-phone for them all to see. “The judges want to see how you react to what you are told.”

“Did you know this is when the real audition process begins?” Veronica whispered to Betty. “From this stage onwards, the tests differ from what they were the year before.”

“But why?” Betty queried.

Veronica shrugged, “The President decides what they are each year and nobody knows until the day itself. If you fail here, you’re done for. That’s why they say LME’s application process is the most difficult to go through.”

****

The Sheriff stole a glance at the President and let out a barely audible sigh of relief. He was happy. Smiling the smile of a child on Christmas morning. And so the Sheriff hoped and prayed that the smile wouldn’t leave the President’s face until the end of the test.

At that he turned his head in the direction of Betty sitting on the far end of the row. She’d be the last to go up again because they were still going in numerical order. She was sat next to number 46, Veronica Lodge, the missing numbers in between attributed to the singing group who were currently undertaking a different test.

Fortunately, Betty had already caught the President’s attention. The second test relied heavily on the use of facial expressions – which should be easy enough for the girl who scared the living day lights out of him. Now she only had to pass this second round and she’d be well on her way to show-business.

****

Betty watched Veronica smile politely as she took the phone and stood up holding it to her ear. Within seconds, her lip began to quiver, looking to the floor, crestfallen. Then, a moment later, she swallowed, and Betty noticed a tear bubble up from the corner of eye, but now a soft smile poked at her lips.

“I’m so happy,” she whispered audibly as a stream of tears flowed down her face.

“Tears… in such a short amount of time,” the head of acting gushed. “She’s phenomenal. So much drama, so much passion!”

The President nodded at everything he was saying, equally taken with the performance.

“Here you go,” Veronica handed Betty the phone, looking completely composed.

Betty sceptically took it, standing as she held the phone against her ear.

**“I was such an idiot.”**

Perplexed, Betty’s mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t speak.

**“I’ve dated other women since then but it never works out.”**

_Huh?_

**“They say that I’m too difficult to handle because of my ego.”**

A tiny ding went off in Betty’s brain at that point.

_Egoistic. Egomaniac. Egocentric. The three E-s of Archibald Andrews._

Betty tilted her head down, slowly shaking it from the left to the right before stopping and taking in a deep breath.

**“And then I finally realised how much you loved me.”**

A kaleidoscope of memories detailing the naïve Betty, the _nice_ Betty had her gritting her teeth.

**“How you were there for me from the very beginning.”**

Shaking now, she gripped the phone tighter in her hand.

**“I’m aware that I’m rambling, forgive me. But do you think maybe we could give it another go?”**

Betty looked up once more. Her face void of expression. Overwhelmingly unreadable.

Gradually, her mouth twitched and the Sheriff let out a sigh of relief when a childlike glow lit up her face.

“I’m so happy,” she imitated Veronica’s words. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses,” she giggled.

The President grinned at the happy sce-

“Did you actually think that I’d say that?" Betty scoffed into the phone. Immediately her jaw clenched and her eyes were possessed with that unnatural demonic glint. She looked homicidal. “Asshole,” Betty spat out. “If ‘forgive me’ made up for everything, then we wouldn’t need Hell!”

Betty flung the phone onto the ground only realising what she’d done when it hit the floor and smashed to pieces.

“Oh my goodness,” Betty bent down instantly to gather the pieces. “I’m so sorry,” she stopped herself mid sentence as she finally looked at the panel.

Slap bang in the centre where a wide-eyed smile was once planted, sat the embodiment of misery. The Sheriff looked at the depressed President in despair because Betty Cooper had really, truly, royally fucked up.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! I'd love to know what you think! A bit scared coz I've not done Betty many favours but well, character development!


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